ROBBLOG # 152 W E E K E N D Edition

What are you guys doing?”- I yelled from the dining room door.

Three young guys had been standing up on my lawn next to a garden and a pair of municipal election signs. I had heard from neighbours that signs were being pulled out of the ground and thrown onto the street. I thought this was the attraction.

“Nothing”- was the reply.

I countered- “What were you doing up on my property then?”

“We were just wiping this piece of paper on the damp grass to get it wet”- says one of the trio.

“That’s all?”

“Yes. Sorry”- replied the one.

“We just wanted it wet”- said another.

I didn’t ask why. I get a little jumpy when kids walk on my property. Over the years with two schools in the neighbourhood, we’ve had plenty of trouble. Flowers snipped, plants uprooted, eggs thrown on our house, garbage strewn on the lawn not to mention smoking pot and doing cocaine right on our driveway- in broad daylight.

As a matter of fact, one memorable sunny day a couple of years ago- just after eleven in the morning, a pair of blonde girls sat on the curb just outside my window and heated the cocaine in empty Coke cans.
Cheaper than a bong from Happy Dayz!
Charming.
I asked them to move along and never come back to this street again.
They apologized and moved along.

Huh, imagine, apologizing to me as they damaged brain cells.
It was unsettling.
Someone said to me, the two of them could have pulled a knife and jabbed me in the gut or come back- under the cover of darkness, just to set my house on fire.
Boy, I hope we haven’t climbed down to that rung on the evolutionary ladder!
What these kids have to do to get them through a day at school.

Booze, drugs, whatever. It doesn’t matter. The point is, it’s terrible that kids have to do simply because of peer pressure, the movies or an inability to cope.

On another point, why do young men climb onto their skateboards at the top of the hill on Peter Street North and head down the hill through a four way stop and into the traffic at Coldwater and Peter Streets.
Are they on drugs or do they get a “jolt” careening headlong into a Smart car. These guys aren’t about to share the road and they certainly seem oblivious to oncoming traffic.

Yesterday, as I waited at a red light at Coldwater and Peter, a young “dude” was coming down the hill, through the fourway, towards the lights at the intersection in front of me. I wondered- Should I proceed through the intersection, blow my horn and call him a stupid *&^&^**&^ or should I just keep an eye on him and drive by safely?

I opted to do the latter.

Why should I get fussed about this young idiot who might one day spend the rest of his life as a vegetable in an electric wheelchair- if he were to be hit by a car- or even a bus. I suppose it’s just the blurry, wide-eyed ego of youth rearing its ugly head. When one is that young one thinks they are on this earth to live forever.
You and I know that’s not the case.

We are born yesterday.

We’re here today.

We become ill tomorrow-

And die the next day.

The Circle of Life.

If those three boys stood on my lawn to rub a piece of white paper over the dew on my lawn- goodness knows why, that’s not such a bad thing.

Worse things are out there to lure them into danger.

Have a nice one!

ROBBLOG #151

Poor Old Stephen Harper.

First, his suggestion to re-open the debate on Gay Marriage got dashed back a few years ago when he started his Dictatorship in Ottawa.

Then the other boys picked on him and he had to suck up to the Governor General to tell her, to tell the other boys to stop picking on him. She gave him a “Purple Robe” to make him feel better.

Then whether or not to continue the long gun registry was put to a vote. Too bad for Stephen, his followers have to continue to register their guns before “showing” them off in public.

Now it’s the prostitutes and assorted Dominatrix who get to strut their stuff in public by challenging the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. They did and they won!. Even if there’s a 30 day “stay”. You now I bet staying with a prostitute for 30 days could get quite expensive!

So poor Stephen seems to be in the shitehouse even though most Canadians seem to love him and give him free rein to pull our country apart. Just imagine if Mr. Harper had of been a Big “S” Separatist in the 70’s. He would have ensured that Quebec would not only be a separate country by now but American to boot!
He would he have had his head up George Bush’s ample butt during the “Bush” years- as well as every man and woman in America.

I may just cry. Such an opportunity missed.

Good Gosh Steve- what would happen if Vampires wanted equality and were able to marry Humans- if they so choose. That would be the last stake! Mr. Harper’s fangs would show! You know in the same way they do when he talks about women or Mr. Helena Guergis.

When you think about it, Stevie is already a lot like a Vampire. Right now he’s sucking up all the good things that Canada was and is and turning a liberalized, free country- except for guns on the streets, into a far-right country. Good God- can’t someone stop him. If we get any more “far right” we’ll be sitting at the mouth of the Thames. Queen Elizabeth could walk to Canada we’d be so far right.

I say young or not- send Justin Trudeau into the fight. He can’t do any worse that those other guys. He would be something pleasant to look at in the House of Commons and instead of being stuck way in the back he could move forward and be within spitting distance- if Harper was opposition leader. Justin could reminding us daily just who his father was and tell funny stories about his Mother and how she “French kissed” Mick Jagger.

~ewe~

Didn’t she?

I have given you all something to think about.
(Yes I know Vampires aren’t real but it makes for a good Blog, eh?)

ROBLOG # 150

I have had one of those days.

Do you get one of those days occasionally?
The best part is- it’s over now.
The day is done.

But earlier…

First off this morning, I had a call from someone who was amazed by something I had said a day or so ago. Something I had said that came true. That wasn’t so bad but when she started to read a bible verse to me, I couldn’t be sure if she was reading it for my benefit or hers.
I told her it was of no benefit to me.
Heathen that I be.

Those kittens we adopted have turned out to be a bigger problem than we thought. They are little cuties and are only 3 months old but they are having “growing pains”. Right now I am spending a lot of time training them according to house rules-
What is acceptable and what is not.
Soiling on a bed is not acceptable.
Ugh.
I had just cleaned up the mess and was heading downstairs to the laundry room when the phone rang again.

This time it was livelier conversation and a tad more interesting than the first. It was from a “kindred spirit”.
No, it was not Anne of Green Gables.
We discussed something that was close to both our hearts.
Something we both love, only we were a tad upset about something that had happened the evening before.
I can say no more.
It made us feel both angry and a little bit upset.
We decided to have lunch with another friend and together we’d hash it over.
Sounded like fun.

So, around noon, after driving the van to the garage for an oil change, I walked to lunch in the rain.
It was fun- the lunch part not walking in the rain- but our conversation also brought forth a few questions that needed to be answered in regards to the events that unfolded the evening before.
I am purposely being evasive here to protect myself and others.
It sounds like a police report- doesn’t it?
We are hoping to get some answers.

Later in the day after more training and more raining, I got a chance to relax and think. Good thing too. My head was splitting in half.
Fresh air might be the answer, so I leashed the dogs and we strolled the neighbourhood.
What is it about fresh air and a leisurely stroll to put things in perspective?
Don't sweat the small stuff...it's all small stuff!

By evening, after a day of turmoil, things started to calm down.
Don’t ask me about our bathroom reno that was to be started next month…

Then, to top off the day, I revceived a phone call that brought me some good news.
It was surprizing news.
No, I am not a millionaire but it’s something almost as good!
I will share it soon.

In the meantime, have a great day!

I mean it!

P.S. This is ROBBLOG Number 150. I have written on thsi Blog Site one hundred and fifty times since February. Wow!
I'd say that was an accomplishment of sorts- wouldn't you?

ROBBLOG #149

I was re-reading a good book lately and I have discovered some shocking truths about laws.

In today’s world one would believe that these “truths” can’t possibly be real.
But they are Blanche!
But they are!

So let’s pull up our socks and support these important laws. If you’re researching what you read here, I’ll save you some reading time. The gun registry and the Census are not among the topics listed. Mr. Harper may believe he is heading in the right direction but fair warning Mr. H- don't "pet a pig" along the way. There's a terrible truth about law here that could result in- I would rather not say...

So the truths.

For instance, did you realize that here on earth- in Canada specifically, we can keep slaves?
Yup, it’s true.
No one can stop us.
Now, don’t go looking to enslave a fellow Canuk, then force him to wear a loincloth and leg irons and have him cut the grass every second Tuesday to the delight of the neighbours. You see if you must enslave someone, it must be someone from another country. Keeping a tall, muscular Australian or a fine, fit “Greek God” of a man in a little shack down at the end of your garden is just fine and quite within the law as it is dictated.

How many of us love to shop on Sunday or go see a film? It’s a nice thing to do-especially if it’s cold and blustery outsdie. We deserve to be entertained- don’t we?
Yes we do but those helping us enjoy our afternoon really need to be dealt with.
Oh, it’s nothing personal you understand. It’s nothing to do with their level of Customer Service.
It’s not going to be easy.
You see, quite simply, you need to snuff them out for the things they do for you.
Bet you are surprised, eh?
So, go ahead. Shop till you drop or see a film starring Jennifer Aniston- although I can think of a dozen reasons why that is wrong!
Just remember, that one teensey, tiny, glitch that needs to be attended to- you are morally obligated to kill them. I know it doesn’t seem right being a pleasant Sunday afternoon and all but still, I did say it wasn’t going to be easy.

I see you are looking a little scruffy around the ears. Maybe it’s time for a trim- do you think?
Be careful what you wish for. Remove even one follicle from your gorgeous locks and like those poor ticket takers at the cinema- we have to run you through with a sharp instrument and throw your limp body over a cliff.  Yes, it seems harsh but we are only following the law.

Finally, some helpful advice the next time you head out to Red Lobster for a meal.
Think again.
You see eating shellfish is just not cricket. Eating crickets isn’t shellfish either but that’s another rule of thumb that I don’t have time to explain to you right here and now. Just be aware that your shellfish habit- lobster, is not looked upon as such a good thing to do.
There are those that claim it is an absolute abomination.
Yeech! Bleck! Ptooey! Tarnation!
There you have it.
You can’t under estimate the power of ptooey- can you?
As a sidebar here, I should also say that although eating shellfish is wanton and wrong, being Gay or a “national” of the Island of Lesbos is still a way down the chain of foodstuffs.
Now with this "Gay Stuff" I'm talking an absolute abomination!
And I should know.
Disgusting and just plain..unnatural.
No question.
No recourse.

Re-reading that book has certainly changed my comfortable Canadian way of thinking. I am literally looking at many things in a different light now.

Hey! What are you doing on Saturday morning? Join me at the Market for a stoning! You see,
Jerry- a friend of mine planted corn in one half of his field this past spring and potatoes in the other half. His wife-Sue, helped him plant that warm day in late April. I know it may have seemed- to Sue at least, that it was an honest mistake grabbing those polyester work pants and throwing a cotton shirt on up top but people have to pay the price.
I had to tell the authorities.
What else could I do?
We can’t have every Tom, Dick and Harry going around planting willy-nilly and wearing what they damn well please can we?
No of course not.

There you have it.
Please disregard the laws you have been familiar with that have been laid down by “mortal man”and in future refer to the above changes. If you need a refresher- as I did, grab your Bible, dust it off and have a peek at the following:

Slavery is covered in Lev. 25:44

Working on a Sunday is in Exodus 35:2

Getting a haircut is in Lev. 19:27

Lobster for dinner is on the menu in Lev. 11:10

For Gayness prance along to Lev. 18:22

Gardening and Gardening Fashion is planted in Lev. 19:19

Have a good day and remember someone is watching.
Always.

ROBBLOG # 148

Sometimes I can be a right little bleeder!

I had to go to a funeral home on Sunday. It was in honour of a family friend that I have known for almost 60 years.
Someone who looked after me when I was just a little guy.
Someone who in many respects was like a second Mother to me.
Someone who never talked down to me.
Someone who always had a good word and a twinkle in her eye.
Someone who- on the odd occasion, had reason to chide me by saying-
“Rob. Be good or I’ll mow you down!”.
Someone who saved me from drowning when I was just a wee tyke.

Here name is Marion Cox.
What an individual!
If anyone were to be chosen to sing in the Angelic Choir way up there- or be a “model” Angel- soon after passing St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, it would be Marion.

When you live to be 90 years of age, friends and family are at a premium. Many have passed on. Many are lost in the cracks of time.
It was a shame. Only about a dozen people paid their respects.
I chatted, laughed and told stories with people I hadn’t seen nor heard from in 40 years.
I never thought I would be old enough to say that!
I even spoke with Bill. A guy that I had once considered to be a “hunk of a man”- at least in my memory of 40 years ago!
However, just not today.
Sorry Bill.
For a guy who had “stomach abs” before “abs” were even popular and arms the size of Dwayne Johnson’s, today proved to me what 40 years of neglect can do to a guy. Oh the arms looked to be still bulging beneath his sport jacket but the jacket was also covering a large bit of a “late-in-the-mid-life-gut”.
He still looked pleasant enough- in his face.
God, I remember how he looked in a Speedo Swim Suit swinging from the rafters in a men’s change room, on the beach at a friend’s house.


W A R N I N G – Naughty Stuff Ahead!!

To be truthful, I saw him “without” the Speedo too. Very impressive as I remember- and I do! His brother was no slouch either in the handsome department- but just not as well “put together”.
But, Rick was nothing to sneeze at either.
It was all a question of size- and not what you think either!
It was Rick I had actually expected to see today but he didn’t show.
After the 2 hours of “viewing”, we were encouraged to stay for the wake.
No beer and pretzels but there was a sermon and praying and Catholic liturgy from a Catholic Deacon- who told us he was married.
I don’t know why. Something about getting home to the “little woman”.

Although I don’t believe all the mumbo-jumbo for one prayerful moment, I stayed for Marion. About a half dozen of us did. Most sat quietly. One mourner even repeated the Catholic rhetoric with the Deacon.
Most only rolled their eyes.
When the Catholic Deacon finished connecting us to Jesus- he had a direct line it seemed- or believed, he asked for us to speak individually.

I went first. I guess I kind of started the show rolling, saying to him:
“Tough House- eh? I’m in theatre and I know. It’s hard to perform when you don't get the laughs!”
Ooops.
Did I stop there?
No. Of course not.
I continued by saying I neither believed in God nor Jesus.
Geeze, don't I love to stir up shite!

I find that in cases like this, the "person in charge" never knows what to say.
I think they say to themselves- "Whuck? A Non- Believer in the crowd. Damn Not on my watch!”
Anyway- at one point, I thought he was going to throw a crucifix in my face and drench me in holy water.
His face "ticked". His eyes did not twinkle. His dimples were not so merry- or Joseph. I think he thought I was the devil and he was being tested.

Then he said to me- “Well we’re not talking about that, we are here to talk about Marion now!”
Well, what was I a dummy? I could see the casket. It was right beside him. So I continued-
“I know.”- I said. “I want to tell you, after an entire life on earth, Marion can finally be who she really is and could never be in this earthly life. She's peaceful now.
She has earned that right as she passes on to the next level.”

He just stared at me. The right side of his lip started to curl up- ever so slightly at the edges. It quivered.
All in a day’s work- I thought.

Have a happy Marion and may a Flight of Angels carry you to your rest!

ROBBLOG # 147 W E E K E N D Edition

Just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse- they do.

A Municipal Election looms next month here in Orillia as well as many other towns and cities. In the GTA for instance, there’s the phenomenon called “Rob Ford”, who is just about as far right of centre as you can get. He’s kissing babies and kissing ass but please- no pecks with the fellas!
That is both dirty and wrong!
So says- The Gospel According to Stephen Harper- although proroguing is just fine as long as it’s between a man and a woman. When the new Governor General beds down at Rideau Hall, he may have to re-think that one.

Then there’s the question of guns in the streets or at least down on the farm. Now President Harper lost on that one but by Jesus he’s going to keep pattin’ that one on the ass until Canadians get so fed up, they just let the gun registry go, just to shut him up. I mean those farmers and sportsmen have got to be able to shoot something without having to register their weapon and be found out during a shooting investigation.

Imagine the hardship a Police Officer faces when he has to determine where a bullit comes from once it’s dug out of someone’s chest.
Tarnation!
Looking in a book to see who owns the gun is just too easy!
Let ‘em earn his keep and guess the gun's ownership!

Now this Hank guy running “four” Mayor. Can it get any worse?
Would you want it to?
Now, I mean that in a kind way, Hank.
Not much experience- except for the “school of life” but it may be better than what we are about to get.
How do you choose between two Italians and a born and bred in Orillia- Orillian. There’s not many of us like Tim Lauer these days.
Sure, people come from all over the place to live in Orillia but alas- unless they are a “Soldier’s Baby” they’re just pissing in the breeze off Lake Couchiching.
They can never consider themselves a “true” Orillian.
We won’t let them.
Ever!

Hank may not have much to offer- except for his sturdy four-part platform that is winning supporters- both athletic and otherwise, at 10’s of thousands a day.
No, he doesn’t have a Facebook Page or a Twitter account. Hank is doing it the old-fashioned way with simple e-mails, a poster or two and word-of-mouth.
So this Hank guy may be a negative turning into a positive.
Positive what- I don’t know.

So if all this stuff transpires I shouldn’t worry about it. Remember, as I mentioned in a recent Blog there’s the “Rapture” coming soon when the beginning of the end of the world starts to loom on the horizon. Any of these guys and gals who find themselves successful at Municipal Politics won’t even be able to complete their terms.
Can it still get worse?
Of course it can!

For future earthlings, consider that a meteorite might nudge the earth in a few hundred years.
Game over.

Now, today we are being told that nasty solar weather could play havoc with satellite feeds, communication gadgets- like cell phones and iPads and goodness only knows what else, as early as 2010 or 2013.
Isn’t that going to be fun? Y2K all over again, only maybe on a larger scale this time disabling communications around the earth- even airline and shipping navigation systems.
Can it get worse?

Probably…..

ROBBLOG #146

For those of you who started reading my Blog back in February you will remember our precious 10 year old orange tabby-Luma, succumbed to cancer. It was sad.

We still miss her so much but her “spirit” is alive and well. That- in part, is why it has taken Tom and I seven months to decide it was time for another feline presence here in our home- Pine Tree House.

We started looking- casually, a few weeks ago. We looked again this past Saturday at the OSPCA. We are happy to announce we are the “Dad’s” to two beautiful male kittens who just turned three months old on Sunday. The kittens are both orange but one has white paws. His name is “Dickens”. The other is Doyle.

Doyle is named after our Luma. Our Luma’s full name was Luma Doyle. The Doyle part comes from the curiously strange housekeeper on Craggy Island who took care of Father Ted and the boys! Father Ted was a hilarious BBC TV show from 10 years ago. The name Luma came from previous cats- LUcky and MAx.
We like to carry names forward in remembrance of past pets.

Luma

A Schnauzer we had several years ago was named Sam, after an Irish Setter by the name of Samantha. Then the Samantha name was “carried” forward again to our present Schnauzer whose full name is “Whiskers Miss Samantha Rose”.
We call her Missy.

It’s respectful and proper to remember past pets. We still miss every single one of them.
They were our “kids”.
We mourned for each of them.

We remember how different each was from the last with separate, distinct personalities. We love and loved them all and hope some day to meet again.
Some day, somewhere, when we too have passed on to our next phase of existence, we’ll climb a grassy rise and there on the other side- in a sunny meadow, we’ll see every one of them again. They’ll all come running towards us. Tails wagging, planting sloppy, wet kisses on our moist cheeks.
You may think it’s a pipe dream but it’s more comforting than what many believe.

So we have Doyle and Dickens. Tom says it sounds like a Law Firm. Already, their little personalities are being established.
Dickens is the talker.
“Meow, Meow, Meow”.
He likes to get at the food bowl first and stand his ground.

Doyle- who appears to be more like Luma, loves to curl up in your arms or on your lap and snooze.
He likes to play with leaves that blow onto the side verandah.
Right now, he’s sitting at my back, in the chair I am typing from.

Doyle-Left. Dickens-Right

Dickens runs from one side of the house to the other and slides under a nearby chair.
He explores- under our watchful eyes, the jungle beneath our perennials.

Last night each of them curled up beside Kiki- our yellow Lab and Missy.
It was warm, fuzzy sight to behold.

By the way at the Orillia OSPCA until the end of September, adoptions are half price.

We brought Doyle and Dickens home for 150 dollars and received 2 free bags of food, 2 bags of litter and more.

It’s a good feeling.